excerpt from Chapter 14: "You've Got a Friend"

While Lee walked inside the coffee shop, I strolled over to the bench and sat down. The sun was still low in the sky over the harbor, and I enjoyed the sounds of pigeons as they fluttered around the small park. I recalled the summers I spent in Cambridge when Lee and I were still married. His construction business was just starting out, and I would take a few weeks at the beginning of each summer for myself. In some ways it seemed so distant, and yet the city still felt the same after all these years. Lee’s voice brought me back.

“Here’s your drink.”

I took the cup and inhaled deeply. “Thanks. It smells great.”

“My pleasure.” He sat down beside me. “So I'm assuming I'm a friend?”

“Absolutely not,” I answered.

A confused expression came across his face. “What do you mean I'm not a friend?”

“Relax,” I said. “You're way more than a friend.”

“More than a friend?” he asked. “Did I graduate to family?”

“No, you don’t get to choose family. You're in our fellowship.”

“I’m honored… I think.” He look puzzled. “Is this a Lord of the Rings thing?”

“Cute.” I took a sip of my latte. “No, a little less theatrical. They're the people you trust the most.”

“That’s what I call a close friend.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “But the word ‘friend’ can mean different things to different people.”

“I’m still not sure I get it.”

I thought for a moment. “Well, who’s your best friend?”

He answered without thinking, “Ron.”

“And he's more than a close friend, right?”

“Absolutely, I tell him everything. He always plays it straight with me, even if it’s not what I want to hear. I do the same for him.”

“And what about me?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Am I just chopped tofu?” I teased.

“Well,” Lee laughed, “you're my best girl friend.”

“How come?”

He answered earnestly, “Because I know you’ll be there for me no matter what.”

“And what about Gary?” I continued.

“Same thing,” he said.

“So for us, we have more than one best friend. That’s what we call fellowship. Gary and I have about a dozen people we can count on.”

Lee paused for a moment. “I guess I only have three of those people in my life.” He looked out across the park and took another drink of his coffee. “It’s funny…”

“What's that?” I asked.

“I feel like we’re closer now than we were when we were married.”

I touched his hand. “Me, too.”

“A lot of my friends don’t even talk to their ex’s.”

“Geez,” I said. “I can't imagine that. We’ve been through so much together.”

Radha with her first husband Lee,
still friends more than 30 years after their divorce

Where have all the markets gone?

I really miss those summer green markets in Vancouver where organic food and local produce overflow from one tent to the next. Florida's climate makes organic growing a bit problematic because the bugs never get killed by the cold and - like all the vegetation - the bugs just keep multiplying! Thank goodness for our deliveries from Green Cay Farm, where Emily and the team keep the bugs at bay with as many natural deterrents as possible.

This week there were yellow peppers, spinach, tomatoes,scallions, and head lettuce - all of it containing tons of life force (or as we call it in yogic terms - prana). That's what is missing when I look at the food in the grocery stores. Of course, when options are limited, I bless the food as we prepare and eat it, all in an atmosphere infused with positive energy.

When we return to Vancouver this spring, I will plant more food among our flower gardens - herbs, lettuce, beans and beautiful fragrant red tomatoes. Over the years I've accumulated a fair amount of experience to draw upon, and I look forward to rediscovering my green thumb.

Back in Vermont we lived a sustainable lifestyle - growing most of our food in summer, canning our own food for winter and using firewood for fuel The dome only needed 5 cords!

I ground wheat berries into flour to make our bread and boiled milk to prepare for the yogurt starter. Eggs came from the farm down the hill, and cheese from the Cabot Creamery, also down the hill but in the other direction. Those days seem long ago, but I remember the excitement of fresh picked food grown with love and care for the earth. Returning to the land in the Sixties wasn't such a bad or crazy idea after all!

Gary in our garden back in Vermont.

Birthdays, Anniversaries, and Coincidences

Yesterday was my birthday, and as chance (fate? luck?) would have it, I was born in the same year that Gary and Radha got married. This is just one of the many happy coincidences we've discovered since the project began, and during this time I've come to know more and more deeply that some things are just meant to be. I've listened to each of them tell their stories, and watched the ways in which the past inevitably takes on hues of the present.

The story of their coming together would read very differently had it gone any other way. If Radha had chosen not to go to the 1976 silent retreat in Newport, or if Gary had never gone to visit her at the dome that fall, or if their marriage had fallen apart during the difficult times they shared together - if any of these things had happened, it wouldn't be the same book.

This is why I don't indulge in hypotheticals.

The fact that it did happen, and even with all the shadows of memory, it is a beautiful story. One of the first intimate conversations I had with Gary, I asked him, "Why did you leave the vows?" I didn't understand how someone who had been so committed, so rigorous, so steely in his resolve could have possible forgiven himself after realizing he had taken a vow he couldn't keep. Gary's answer, however, was as genuine as it was insightful. He responded: it wasn't my dharma.

This was something I understood. In my own life, I have lived - by the most conservative measure - three separate lives. Each of them has been beautiful in its own way, and likewise each of them has been painful to leave behind. When Gary answered me that day in December 2007, I immediately knew that the transition from monasticism to the life of the householder was a painful one because it meant letting go of many of the concepts he had spent the previous five years believing about himself.

Furthermore, I understood (perhaps even more than he did at the time) that it wasn't a matter of the vows not being right for him, but rather a question of him not being right for the vows. I believe this is a sadness we have all felt at one time or another, the moment of realizing we are not the people we thought we were, and I was curious to know more about how it all unfolded.

- Jeremy

Another View

When Gary first mentioned the idea of writing a book, I thought: who cares about an ex-swami and a hippie from the hills of Vermont?

Anyone that knows me, knows that I serve as ballast to his intrepid enthusiasm. I didn't understand the point of writing about ourselves if it was going to be nothing more than exercise in vanity. My husband is is nothing if not persistent, however, and after a couple of years he had amassed a number of chapters about different episodes in our life.

The book took on a life of its own, however, when a young writer named Jeremy came into our life a little more than two years ago. What initially began as a relationship based on barter (he was doing sessions with Gary) grew into something else. For the first time I was able to see Gary's initial vision, and the book took on a life of its own.

Since then, the format has kept changing and morphing, presenting itself in three distinct forms before finally maturing into what its become today. It is the story of two people who began their journey as just a couple of immature kids, straight out of college, confused and searching for meaning. Being such different people, we found it in different ways - the path of marriage and the path of renunciation.

Neither gave us what we were looking for, but in exploring further we found each other and our path together in yoga. It seems strange that so many people have such negative reactions to what was such a powerful, positive experience that continues on, "34 years and counting..."

These years have helped us in developing our trainings and workshops, and in the chapters we share our process by exploring those situations that helped us to understand ourselves and bring clarity to issues that keep us stuck in the past. We've watched our relationship tools transform people's lives, and if the title exposes more readers to our work I'm all for it .

second excerpt from Chapter 1: "He Says, She Says"

“… Gary left his monastic vows in 1977 to marry his wife Radha, the lovely woman who captured the swami’s heart. They have been married nearly thirty years and travel the world teaching yoga and meditation. Together they lead seminars and help others to grow by sharing their relationship tools. So without further delay, I now present to you our dear friend Gary ‘Gopal’ Bello.”

I stood up and began making my way from the audience to the stage. Although outwardly calm, I felt taken aback by Robert’s introduction. Radha was not the reason I left my monastic vows, and as soon as the words left his mouth I felt a tightness in my chest. The walk to the front of the auditorium allowed me time to recover, and I lengthened my exhalations as I walked up the steps . A large black armchair with a small table and bouquet of flowers occupied the middle of the stage, and I sat down pulling my legs into a cross-legged position. As Robert clipped a lapel microphone to my purple shirt, I looked out at the room. It was the first time I had spoken at Satchidananda ashram in over twenty-five years, and I didn’t want my reaction to prevent me from connecting with the audience.

I spent the next hour recounting my introduction to yoga and the early days of the Integral Yoga Institute with my teacher Swami Satchidananda. The audience enjoyed my tales of the early Seventies and anecdotes of India, and my mind let go of Robert’s comment until later that night.

“Can you believe he said that?”

My wife and I were in bed, reviewing our financials. We were closing on a house in Vancouver in April, but our home in Florida had been sitting without an offer for more than a year. Carrying a second mortgage was going to be cutting it close. “Said what?” I asked.

“That I was the reason you stopped being a swami.”

“I'm sure he was only trying to pay you a compliment. Robert has a good heart.” I returned my attention to the paperwork and the room fell quiet. Too quiet.

“Hon, I want to talk about this.”

I recognized the sound of a hurt little girl in my wife’s voice, and I set aside the notepad. “Wow, it really touched something deep, didn’t it?”

“Of course it did. How would you like it if people had been repeating rumors about you for the past thirty years?”

“I don’t think it’s really as bad as that is it?”

“Obviously it is or else Robert wouldn’t have brought it up in front of two hundred people. He knows we’re teaching first thing in the morning, and now everyone’s going to be looking at me like I'm the woman who swooped in and carried off their precious Swami Sudhananda.”

Radha was more affected than I had initially realized. “I reacted for a moment too, hon.”

“Really? You couldn’t tell from the audience.”

“Well, it was subtle, but it was there.”

“What happened with you?”

I tossed the pillow to the foot of the bed and positioned myself so that I was directly across from Radha. I looked her in the eyes as I began, “When Robert made that comment, I noticed a definite tightness in my chest.”

“Me, too.”

“I didn’t want people to blame you for my decision to leave my vows.”

Radha thought for a moment. “Did I?”

“No. I wanted out before I met you, but I hadn't made a decision.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“I was afraid of being rejected by Swamiji. You remember the shape I was in when I showed up at the dome. All I could think about was how to leave the vows without being kicked out of the organization.”

“That’s how I remember it too, but I wasn’t sure if it still looked that way in retrospect.”

“It does, but I had an issue with Robert introducing you as the woman who ‘captured my heart.’ It happened in the blink of an eye, and my mind created a story that I had to set the record straight.”

“I'm glad you didn’t take that route.”

“I learned a long time that you don’t need me to defend you.” Gopal took my hand. “What happened with you?”

Radha responded, “I got pissed. I felt attacked. It felt like they believed it was my fault.”

“You didn’t believe that story did you?” I gently asked.

“Now that you mention it, I guess I did. I've been thinking about his comment for the past two hours.”

“I wonder what the issue is underneath?”

Radha closed her eyes and took another deep breath. The intonation of her voice changed as she whispered, “I felt judged.”

Simply Delicious Tofu Cutlets

Quick, easy, simple and, of course, nutritious - that's what some evenings call for. Tonight Gary is teaching a hatha yoga class at Country Club of Florida until 5pm, and then we're hosting our weekly class on the Patanjali Sutras at 7pm. We like to eat early so the food can digest before meditation, allowing us to feel light and energized - there's nothing worse than feeling stuffed after you eat.

I have the organic brown rice in the rice-cooker, the broccoli is ready to steam, and the onions and peppers (orange and yellow only!) are waiting in the sauté pan. The tofu is baking in the oven, and underneath it all will be a nice base of steamed spinach.

To top it off, we bought some new small size dinner plates (the 9 inch ones) because we don't eat enough to warrant those large 12 inch plates on the shelf in our rental house. We're both turning 61 soon, and after hearing that 50% of Americans are now obese, we've been upping our exercise and decreasing our food intake over the past few years to keep from falling into that particular statistic. Changing the size of the plate is an useful way to control portions, and we both enjoy a good a laugh thinking how easy it can be to fool the tricky mind.

Not everything is better when it's jumbo, mega, or super-sized!


Simply Delicious Tofu Cutlets

1 14 ounce package of drained and pressed firm tofu
2/3 cup nutritional yeast flake type
1/4 cup soy sauce or tamari
Spike No Salt Seasoning
for extra zing toss in a few red pepper flakes

Cut tofu into 8 rectangles.
Marinate in soy suace or tamari.
Coat with mix of yeast and seasonings.
Arrange on greased cookie sheet.
Bake at 375 degrees for 15 min.
Flip over and bake for 10 more min.
Serve and enjoy!

The Swami Controversy

I emailed an acquaintance at Satchidananda Ashram in Virginia to get a phone number of a mutual friend in Mumbai, India. I shared that our book was nearing its completion and invited her to check out this blog. The reply to my email rather shocked me:

"Hari Om,

I wish I could say i would check out your blog, but may I be honest? My first reaction was rather horrified. Swamis in the west are so often not understood, maligned, disrespected, that it really offended me to see the name of your blog."

Wow! Not what I expected. She hadn't even gone online to check it out, informing me that the name alone was a door closer. Now this is an intelligent woman who served as personal assistant to Swami Satchidananda when he was alive. This man was the most influential person in my life, and I was confused how a book that honors yoga, and specifically Integral Yoga, could possibly malign him. The thought that I was defaming the title of Swami, the entire ancient tradition of sanyas, and my teacher’s reputation was too big a leap for me.

Radha and I with Swami Satchidananda in 1980.

I thought to myself that if she would only just look at the blog all the negativity would surely dissolve. The name of our book, The Swami and the Married Woman: Space Gypsies in Love, simply describes how Radha and I got involved in yoga, met Swami Satchidananda, and had our lives transformed in the process. Thirty-four years later we are madly in love with each other and travel the country offering our relationship tools to those who might also benefit from our forty years of experience with the science of yoga.

Radha and I know a number of the Swamis who live at the ashram in Virginia and didn't want this negative publicity, especially since some of them took their vows with me back in 1975. Unlike me, however, they were still living a monastic lifestyle. I wondered what other reactions might be. I soon received a second email from a swami on the Ashram Board of Directors, and realized that this situation was taking on a life of its own:

"Hari Om.

I very much agree with her. "Swami and the Married Woman" as a title sounds like an article in a tabloid magazine, not reflecting well on Sannyas and our Integral Yoga tradition. Something like "From Monasticism to Marriage" would be more dignified."

We feel very close to all our old friends in the organization, and I figured that if they just read the article, then they will see that the title is just plain old descriptive:

1) I was a meditation monk in the 1970’s until my teacher suggested and helped to guide me out of my vows.

2) Radha was married to her first husband Lee (who happens to be visiting us here in Florida as I write - but that's another story) until they both decided they were better off being sister and brother.

3) It was during this turbulent time that we met 1976. One year later we were married at the Montreal IYI.

The Swami and the Married Woman is a love story that credits Integral Yoga and our teacher Swami Satchidananda with giving us the tools that have made us who we are today. Why all the concern about "tabloids" and bringing down a five thousand year tradition? I was a swami, Radha was a married woman, and after leaving our existing vows we found love, meaning and purpose together. Wow, that is a success story - isn’t it?

Okay, one more point. The term swami can be defined in many ways, but they all describe a person who is focused on inner-fulfillment and spiritual growth. In the 1980’s and 1990’s we spent three months every year living in Himalayas, studying with a person who is married and has five children. His title is Swami, and he is addressed as Swamiji (a show of affection) by his students as well as everyone in the area - the title swami is not limited to describing a monastic.

So after some very deep reflection and contemplation I have concluded that you can please some of the Swamis some of the time but certainly not all of the Swamis all of the times.

I think I need a pause, a timeout, and a long sit in meditation...

Tell us, what does "swami" mean to you?

excerpt from Chapter 16: "Monkey Business"

Only a few hours earlier, I had been waist-deep in a small pond in front of the ashram. It had been a perfect morning, and the sunlight softly caressed the treetops as it streamed downward into the chilly water, bursting into a thousand sparkling diamonds dancing joyfully around me. I closed my eyes as we began to repeat one mala of the Gayati mantra. Then we began repeating the Hamsa Gaytri Mantra, the one we had just received from Swamiji. I focused on the meaning of each word. This beautiful hymn celebrated my relationship with the divine, and it felt like I had been chanting it for lifetimes. The air became saturated with these deep melodic sounds, and my voice slowly became indistinguishable from the others. After one hundred eight repetitions our voices fell silent, and we stood there listening to nothing more than the sound of the wind. Tears welled up in my eyes as I felt a shiver go through my body.

Our silence was broken by Swamiji’s voice signaling the start of the ceremony, and I opened my eyes to see the smiling face of a large frog. It floated lazily in front of me with its legs spread apart, and I imagined it must be curious as to why such a large group of uninvited guests were joining it for its morning swim. It began circling my body, inspecting my saffron robe as they floated weightlessly in the water.

It was Guru Purnima, an auspicious time in the Hindu calendar, and for the past three days I had been completely immersed in an ancient ritual that had never before been performed in North America. I had been invited along with twenty-five other men and women to participate in this sacred ceremony, and our days were filled with meditation, fasting, chanting, and prayer. We needed only a few hours of sleep each night, and every waking minute was spent preparing for the moment now at hand. The day before we took turns shaving one another’s heads, leaving only a miniature ponytail hanging from the back. It was a solemn ritual, and our collective baldness virtually obliterated the difference between the men and the women. We now anxiously waited for our guru to remove the remaining lock.

Swamiji spoke, “With this final cut, your personal lives are surrendered to God. The focus of your actions will shift from serving yourself to serving humanity, and all outward acts will be directed with this goal in mind. Selfless action deepens the inward journey until the last vestiges of the selfish ego dissolve forever.”

With this invitation Steve stepped forward, and I watched as each person capitulated to the snip of our teacher’s scissors. My turn finally came and I stood ready in front of him, bowing my head reverently, awaiting the final release. Gazing downwards, I saw that my friendly frog was still with me.

“Do you accept the vow of poverty, chastity, and obedience?”

I bowed my head and answered, “I do.”

I felt a tug on my hair, followed by the sound of the scissors. I was twenty-six years old and had just committed the remainder of my life to the service of humankind and renunciation of worldly desires. The frog swam away and I smiled a fond farewell, concluding that its presence was an promising sign.

Gary with his fellow monks in 1975

A Duck Gave Me "The Look"

Radha and I drove up A1A yesterday on the way back from our dear friend and chiropractor Gary Burns. It was a warm and delicious Friday afternoon and I had the top down, letting the sun shine on us as we debriefed the events of the past week.

It had been an intense few days, filled with teaching hatha classes, hosting our Enlightening Relationships group on Wednesday, and preparing for our Enlightening Moments workshop on Sunday. Out of nowhere I began laughing, remembering what had happened earlier.

"A duck gave me the look this morning," I said.

"Where?" Radha asked.

"On the way to Quail Ridge. It was waiting to cross the road and stared at me."

"That’s amazing,” she smiled. “Did it make it across?”

“I don’t know but it looked me right in the eyes as I drove past.”

“This was one smart duck," Radha replied.

"No kidding," I laughed.

"You're gonna love this... Yesterday I noticed a cat doing the same thing at Woolbright. This confirms Darwin’s theory you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only the aware survive!” she chuckled.

I turned on the sound system so we could listen to Diana Krall’s Quiet Nights. With the music playing, we enjoyed the first relaxing day since Radha’s ear operation in December. After ten minutes she announced, “Hey, I can hear the sound vibrating in my left ear.”

“Really?” I turned to look at her. For the last five weeks she had been recuperating. The surgeon had just removed the packing in her ear and her newly constructed eardrum was working. For the first time in ten years she was hearing sound from both ears.

“Wow! My entire head is vibrating with the sound. I love it!”

“I am so happy that this ordeal is over,” I said to her. Taking her hand, my mind turned once more to the duck. I began laughing.

“You remembering the duck again?"

I smiled at her. “You read my mind.”

“I really love how humor is such a huge part of our life,” she said.

I nodded as we pulled into the driveway of our rental home and turned off the car engine. The CD continued to play and we looked up at the beautiful clear sky, enjoying the music together. I spoke, “That's what I love about being with you.”

“Me too.” Radha smiled as Diana started singing "Walk On By." “I love this song.”

“Hey, I just got how we can share GRACE with our Enlightening Moments group.” We planned on deepening their experience of GRACE, the anagram described the five steps we offer in order to transform an upsetting situation into an enlightening moment.

“Tell me,” she answered.

I pushed the button putting the top up on the car. “Let’s request that everyone come with an uplifting joke to share with the group.”

“I like that,” she responded. “We can write it into our blog article combining it with your duck story.”

“Great idea," I answered. "I’ll send them an email telling them to check our blog.”

“You can add the Guru cartoon to it.”

“You think they will get it?”

“Hey, only the aware survive!” she said.

A line of "aware" ducks from our trip to Bali in 1979.

The guru cartoon.

We invite you to leave your own joke, combining the pictures above.

Himalayan Chocolate Chip Cookies

Well the holidays are over, and I gave away the last of the Christmas cookies today. As usual the variety that disappeared the quickest was the Himalayan chocolate chips.

Starting in the early 1980’s, Gary and I would spend three to four months studying and meditating in a wonderful little town in the Himalayas. We would leave the January snows of Vermont in order to rejuvenate from our hectic schedule directing a Holistic Health Center in St. Johnsbury and running our meditation retreat center in South Woodbury. The winters were cold in the mountains, and although it only snowed a few times in the Kullu Valley, the rain would make for a perfect environment to meditate, chant and study the ancient yoga sutras. No cell phones, no TV, no newspapers, and no entertainment - just quiet days doing our practices and hanging out with good friends.

The only real social activity was around meals. My friend Komi was a great cook and we would hang out baking and cooking together. She invented this recipe with ingredients available at 4000 ft. in the mountains along with the chocolate chips from the West. The snow was often covering the tops of the surrounding mountains when we would have an urge for chocolate. It was a challenge to bake on the kerosene stove, using little more than a tin box sitting on top of the burner to capture the heat. Sometimes we would lose a whole batch to the fluctuating temperatures. Komi was a wizard in the kitchen thought, and as the smells drifted from her small kutir people would appear at the door following the scent of home baked delights .

I especially like this recipe because the cookies are crunchy and don't flatten out but look much like the cranky high mountains they came from. Enjoy these Himalayan treats!


Preheat oven to 375 degrees

Blend:
1 cup butter
1 ½ cup sugar (I use light brown sugar)

Add:
1 tsp water
¼ cup yogurt
1 tsp vanilla

Stir in:
1 ½ cup flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp salt

Add:
3 cups oats
1 ½ cups chocolate chips, nuts (anything you want!)

Place on greased cookie sheet and bake for 12-15 minutes at 375 degrees

Sweet Relief

I was washing the car last Friday morning when a hose snaking across the driveway decided to test my agility and balance. My ankle, weakened since a 1970 injury in basic training, was not up for the test. Rather than severely damaging my ankle, I immediately tumbled onto the wet driveway and landed on my left hip. Ouch!

Although I saved my ankle, I did notice a wee bit of soreness in my left buttock the next day during the monthly meditation day Radha and I host at our home. Besides the pain in my butt, I also realized I had a sharp pain on the lower right side of my rib cage, especially acute whenever I leaned forward. Thankfully a long meditation at the very beginning of the day allowed me to transcend the discomfort for a coupe of hours.

Upon coming out of the meditation we had an interesting discussion on the group's experience with the exercise I had given them. I had guided them in observing the place in the mind where a thought actually begins, then remaining alert I had them continue to focus on the thought as it traveled across the screen of the mind. Finally, and the most difficult part of the exercise, I instructed them to pay attention to the place (outside of the mind) when the thought ended.

The discomfort in my ribcage remained and I realized that I had to do something immediately to release it. With a half hour remaining before Radha was planning to serve lunch, I instructed everyone to tune into their body in order to discover what hatha yoga poses would be appropriate for their body (and mind). As everyone spread out their yoga mats, I sat on the floor cross legged and practiced deerga swasam (3 part deep yoga breathing).

I felt my spine lengthen upwards with each inhalation, and after about a minute, I knew the muscles alongside my spine were ready for an adjustment. I guided my torso upward using my hands on my thighs, and then I gently lifted my spine twisting to the left. I exhaled through my nose slowly as I moved into position. I paused as I felt the discomfort begin, continued breathing deeply, and waited for the release. Four breaths later I heard the pop, felt the rush of energy moving upward through my torso to the top of my head. Immediately I experienced relief.

I repeated the same process as I twisted in the opposite direction, only this time there was no need for a release. Free of pain I laid on my back preparing for a few minutes of savanasa (the relaxation pose) that allowed my brain to recognize the changes that had just taken place in my spine. After completing our yoga routine we all enjoyed a scrumptious vegetarian feast.

Oh, how thankful I am that hatha yoga is an integral part of my life!

Happy Birthday Kids!

After spending most of my twenties as a pre-monastic and Swami, fathering a child just did not seem to be in my future. Furthermore, I had burnt out all my parenting karma growing up in a large Italian Catholic family. Every time - and it was often - that the Bellos gathered, I was the social director for thirty or so children ranging from infants to cousins my own age. Being the oldest boy, I was deputed to be a priest and my grandmother Nanny, a strong woman who surprised me by her acceptance of my decision to don orange robes rather than a white collar.

Radha, on the other hand, was an only child. There was a large age gap between her mother and father, and he was sixty years old when she was born. It was his second family, and her step-sister and brother were old enough to be her aunt and uncle. After meeting at the IYI Newport Yoga Retreat in 1976, she reluctantly moved to Montreal and joined the community where I had been living since 1972.

In the early years of our marriage, Radha and I made the decision to devote our lives to service. We knew this commitment would make it difficult to offer a child our full attention, and for that reason we decided to not bring a child into the world. Circumstance, however, has gifted us with knowing some amazing young people in our spiritual family, and two of them celebrated a birthday last week.

Ana turned nineteen on January 8th. We have known her since she was six years old (her father has studied with us for nearly two decades), and this year has been her first away from home at college. She is majoring in the performing arts, and we remember fondly listening to her monologues and watching her school plays since elementary school. We miss her at our meditation days and Tuesday night Patanjali study group, but are excited to watch her as she continues to grow. She is like a daughter to us.

Ana... we've known her since she was 6 years old.

Crystal shares a birthday with Ana, and turned eighteen - the official transition point into adulthood. We initially got to know her in the role of substitute caregiver, whenever her father was unable to find a babysitter. Over the years she slowly warmed up to us and is now attending our Enlightening Relationship six month training. Radha and I are both impressed by her maturity and desire to learn relationship tools in order to navigate life more successfully.

Crystal... now "officially" an adult.

We left voice messages for both Ana and Crystal on their birthday, offering our best wishes and appreciation for how mature and conscious they are living their lives. We are blessed to have had so many children in our life over the years. Radha and I joke that we get to Be with them after their parents have done all the hard work - doing hatha yoga, meditating, and playing in the space. What a blessing.

Happy birthday Ana and Crystal- we love you both.

Creamy Broccoli Dahl

Sometimes a new recipe is so good it becomes an instant staple in my meal planning. Maybe it has a taste that carries a memory of a childhood family dinner or - like this one - brings back the experience of India mixed with broccoli from my garden in Vermont. When Gary and I find a dish that evokes such strong feelings, we call it eating memories. Some, like the crumb cakes in New Jersey, are better left in the mind not the stomach. This recipe is the best because its good for you and especially delicious on a cold Florida evening before Patanjali Class. Quick, easy and vegan!

Creamy Broccoli Dal (makes two servings)

1-2 tbs veg oil
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp mustard seeds (black)
1/4 cup onions,finely chopped
1/2 cup red lentils (masoor dal)

Step 1:
Heat oil on medium high in 3 qt pot.
Add above ingredients, fry until seeds start popping, onions soft.

1 whole broccoli stalk peeled and florets (2+ cups)
2 cups water
1/2 tsp salt

Step 2:
Add above ingredients to pot, bring to boil, cover and simmer 20 min.
Soup should be thick but still watery, broccoli soft.

1cup soy milk
1 tbs soy sauce
1 tbs lemon juice
1/2 tsp tumeric
1/2 tsp garam masala
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes

Step 3:
Add above to pot and turn down the heat, don't boil the soup anymore. Stir well, adjust seasoning if needed and serve immediately.

Doubles well for more people and I've added spinach and fresh corriander for the fun of it... Enjoy!!!

Oh, by the way, it comes from a great cookbook called Vegan Yum Yum by Lauren Ulm, published by Health Communications, Inc,and recommended by our friend Kim Weiss.

Gary Talks About Relationships on P3

I met Randall this past summer in Vancouver after making an appearance on a yoga television program hosted by our friend Padma. We hit it off immediately and had a great time during the show, after we were done he invited me to record a second segment. The day was alive with excitment. It is such a joy to be around aware and loving beings! We will be in Vancouver in February and plan to have lunch together. It's time to meet his wife! Radha and I are blessed to know so many wonderful people.

excerpt from Chapter 1: "He Says, She Says"

“Usually I just found a quiet, deserted place on campus, but that day something called me to the beach. I was celebrating the end of another harsh Canadian winter, and although it was off limits to staff and participants, I easily rationalized that my position of responsibility entitled my indiscretion. I drove the Institute’s Datsun down to the public beach and laid out my orange towel.”

Radha jumped in, “Wait, you gotta tell them the rest.”

I took a dramatic pause and then stated, “Oh yeah… I even had matching orange Speedos.” The entire room burst into laughter and Radha began shaking her head as she put her hands over eyes.

“So here I was, minding my own business, watching the clouds pass overhead, very serene… until she shows up,” I motioned to my left. “What was it you said, hon?”

“I didn’t say anything!” she exclaimed. “You were the one who started talking.”

“Now see, this is why you can't believe your stories. Radha and I have totally different memories about who spoke first that day. In fact, about the only thing we agree on is that it was cool and cloudy. This single situation created two very different stories, and that’s going to be the focus of our time together – learning to tell the difference between the situation and your story about it.” I saw several heads bobbing gently in agreement. “First, I'm going to tell you what really happened, and then Radha is going to tell her crazy version of that day.”

She shook her head. “Can you actually believe I've been married to this guy since 1977?”

The audience giggled and I resumed my story. “I didn’t know Radha’s name at this point, but I recognized her from the day before as the woman who had been scrubbing the stairs in a white peasant top, cut way too low.”

“It was not cut too low,” she defended. “I wasn’t wearing a bra and you were looking down my shirt.”

I laughed, “I was a swami. I didn’t do things like that. Besides, I still remember the embroidery along the chest.”

“No, that was a different shirt.”

“Well, whatever you were wearing, you should have been dressed more appropriately.” I gave her a loving smile and then returned to my story.

“So here I was, a twenty-six year old swami, wearing orange Speedos, eating cherries on the beach next to a beautiful woman with long blond hair taking off her clothes. All I could think about was what the other monks would say. To make matters worse,” I held up my hands into a small rectangle, “her yellow bikini was about this big.”

Radha began to blush and the participants broke into another round of uncontrollable laughter. I felt pleased that everyone was enjoying my anecdote and waited until they calmed down before continuing.

“What was going on deep inside was something serious, though. I felt like I was doing something wrong. Even though there was no one else on the beach, Little Gary was concerned with what people would think. Sound familiar to anyone?” A woman in the front row playfully nudged the man beside her.

“Looks like you two know what I'm talking about.”

“Yeah,” she answered. “Larry and I were talking about how that comes up a lot in our relationship.”

“How so?” I asked.

Larry answered, “Sometimes it’s hard for me to open up to Cathy.”

“What happens when you experience that feeling?”

“I try to figure it out myself,” he said.

Cathy elaborated, “He stops communicating.”

“That,” I replied, “is a very common strategy. Each of us has a default when that insecure place gets activated. That day on the beach, my initial strategy was to divert my attention, but the thoughts about Radha and what people would think just wouldn’t go away. Does anyone have any idea what my next strategy was?”

Larry replied, “Blame her?”

“Exactly,” I answered in an exaggerated voice. “It was her fault, and I started rattling off all the reasons in my head: Why was she breaking the rules anyway? She should know better. I had specifically pointed out during orientation that public areas were off limits. This entire beach is empty. Why is she sitting so close to me?”

I paused and took a sip of water. “And then came the ultimate injury – she actually had the nerve to ask me to go swimming with her.”

“I didn’t ask you to go swimming!” Radha interjected.

“You said it, hon. I know you did.”

She gave me a dubious grin.

“So," I continued, "here she is playing in the surf while I'm sitting on my orange towel - chewing each cherry carefully, spitting the pit into my brown paper bag, and furiously repeating my mantra. When I look up, I see Radha walking back to the shore and I realize she's naked...”